Death Walking
by miasmicdeprival
Summary: Based off a dream, the beginning is a direct caption from the end of my dream. As such, this is not a Fanfiction, but a original idea, and I'm keeping it here til I find another place. Recheck often, will critique whole thing at end, change may happen
1. The First Time I died Introduction

_Her footsteps were labored and prolonged, the starvation and disease having taken its prolonged toll. Each step drew her further up the stairwell. They'd come so far now, the miracle that willed them here, each and every agonizing step, had brought her home to die._

_Coming upon a landing, her eyes, glazed over and weary, cast glance up to the damned souls there._

_Disease has driven into them the madness. During the night so much had changed. Inside of them all, the disease altered, and they could eat again…only now their hunger was far too grotesque in nature. Around them the bodies of fallen, gray and sunken as time passed, became the feast these poor retches of life desired with every part of their dementia. _

_Her mouth was dry, lips sticking above the gum line, panting through the desire to join, she continued on. Drowning away the noise of ripping skin and bones snapping, she only paused for a moment when a line of mahogany goo spattered across her cheek. Once this sludge had been blood, the disease made it this way, something about the smell of this contaminated substance drove her crazy, teasing the hunger. It was like the sweetest smell she'd ever beheld, a savory delectable, just one little taste it begged. That thought alone ripped at her stomach in disgust, how could blood, old and gelatinous, be so tantalizing?_

'_By now,' she thought dully to herself, 'I must look more like the corpses getting torn apart, then those doing the tearing.' had the blood inside of her too become thick and delicious? Straining for the water and food it could not ingest only oxygen and disease remaining. _

_Their eyes had gone red, full now yes, but there was no color save the red. Even now, so close to death, her eyes still clung to the brilliant blue that was their memory. Those eyes, which had seen so much, seemed so far away, in them was a past that no longer held any ground, the sickness seemed to kill even the memories. Agonizing hungry, revolting desire, regrets, so many regrets hence, and lastly the joys and laughter but dim echoes in a time she'd closely forgotten._

_The hard fall of her footsteps resonated around her, tranquil air, none of the enraged have come here, for no dead yet occupy these upper rooms. He would be waiting there though, as promised. His shadowed prints were already left before her in the dust._

_Sun flooded in through the particles dancing midair, cracks in the window refracted light onto her precarious continuance. Once flushed cheeks have drawn in and left to light hints of indigo with feathered strands of blonde hairs plastered against them. Too much like the walking dead, it was a near miracle that kept her walking. The steps ended and what seemed like hours climaxed in minutes to where it was time to end._

_Particulate light haloed her in the doorway she'd at last reached, looking almost angelic in this feverous moment of damnation. She stepped into the room, he was there, like promised, looking through a curtain at the world as it had become. His eyes remained tired, not yet completely taken by the sickness, and lingering was the smallest remainder of color in his cheeks. For him, the disease had it's onset a good time after her own, and though his days were short, he was almost handsome in the morning sun. It was a moment she studied as long as she could, eyes washing over the man she'd married not a year ago. The weakening heart within her did a flutter, for sorrow or joy, she didn't know, but she knew this was the last time it would. _

"_There used to be quite a different view from here….the valley used to be green, and that tree didn't have bodies in it." His brow rose slightly as if in a jest, though his tone was solemn, a haunting reverence, just a calm whisper. "You see over on the rise? The hill where we where we were married, the morning dew has covered the bodies out of view…it's almost beautiful again."_

_She walked to his side, willing the last of her energy to keep her standing just a little longer. Biding for more time, she leaned against him, frail form not much of a burden anymore._

"_It will always be beautiful to me, no matter how this world may taint it." Her voice was low, breathed in and out as if only able when exerted through such._

"_We do not have to end love, we…we could…"_

"_No…I will not…feed this hunger, if that is the cost…."she paused, coughing, her voice pained as gasps fill in the gaps, "This…this hunger…what happens when there no more dead to eat?" Tears mustered in his eyes still, where hers were far too gone to reflect the gesture. Her legs buckled and he gently lowered her to the ground, cradling her in his arms. "Don't you see…it is better I die here, in your arms, with the same mind I fought this journey with? If I suffice this hunger…I will never be me again. So I will die here, now, as me, your wife, and that is what I want." Trailing into mumbled rambles of days past, she could give him just the one last gift of a smile, as the woman she was and once was faded._

_With callused hands he caressed the side of her cheek, her soul leaving as the venturing sun moved into their window. The widower had no tears to cry as he buried his head in her ratted hair. Gently sobbing, he began planting tender kisses along her forehead, whimpering words of regret and begging god. As the warmth vanished from under his lips and her body became rigid, he could no longer hold back the hunger. Her aroma was a torturous yearning that drove away his remaining sanity and love. Kisses gave way to bites and within moments he began to gorge upon his wife, the burgundy of her and bright red of him spatter the curtains. Vigorous want cut away his own flesh where broken bones crunched through, their echoes joining that of the fallen below._


	2. Waking Up part 2

That was the first time I died.

I don't remember the sensation of dying…

But I remember waking up.

Sleeping was memorable in its comfort, it felt good to sleep. I was content to stay nestled there in what eternity must be, just drift away. Like any stubborn soul, I did not want to wake up, waking up meant the end of serenity.

Awakening was like reality's cold fingers reaching through the covers of sleep and setting chilly vice around my throat. Being strangled, then cut and crushed in every direction at once, it was excruciating. Where, for a time, there had been calm, soothing, brisk air, there was a sudden void of atmosphere. Gagging for breath, the world turned to swelter as I struggled, and every part of me wished to go back to sleep.

Release was at last beheld through efforts beyond my own. Sharp intake of the world came like an explosion as sustenance filled my lungs again. The air was metallic and reeked of iodine and blood. A sour taste in my mouth mucked my awareness for a moment. My eyes were still too shy to open, a bright light cast on the other side of my lids showed no promise of ease in opening. A sudden pain somewhere on my body made me recoil and forget my own hast in keeping my eyes shut.

The light stung as though I have never seen light before, retinas almost in agony through adaptation. A quick layer of tears soothed away the burn as well as blur my sight further. Skin tingled and raised, like it were the first time it had felt a cold draft upon bare moist exterior or the contrast of the steady simmer of heat from the lamps surrounding me.

I screamed out in a voice that was not mine.

Quite minuscule in comparison to my previous vocals, I yelled out, "Where am I?" as rubbery fingers wriggled around me. Nearly as suddenly as they had taken grasp of me, I was nearly dropped. The feeble form I embodied felt slightly bruised and I cringed back from the latex coils around me.

"What the hell? Did that baby just say 'Where am I?'?!" a woman's voice cried out shrilly near my ear, "Doctor! Get back over here!" as she lifted me up, a shiver raking my body under the quick burst of air.

Baby?

Blinking away the remaining tears, I squinted through the light. I could make out mousey brown hair extruding from a blue sterility cap, set just above surgical glasses, mask, and light blue, blood smeared scrubs. The sheen from her glasses hid her eyes and for the time these were my only visual cues for the woman.

Something seemed odd about the room, besides a tension and urgency; there was a sense of struggled life present in almost every corner.

"Dr. Langry, you must see this," she shouted into the hallway, "It's like what the radio report claimed in Illinois! It's not a hoax!"

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, flailing about, trying to look in the direction of this doctor. Soon, however, I found I had quite limited mobility, stubby limbs, tendons, muscles, and joints that were stiff from lack of experience and the body's nine month confine.

"What's wrong with my baby? Where are you taking her?" a strained, weaker voice questioned. Up till then it has slipped my mind that in order to be here as a newborn, someone has to bear me. The nurse turned toward the source of the voice, reassuring the woman I would return soon.

Gentle almond shaped eyes, almost the shade of ember, immediately found mine.

"Her eyes are blue…" She uttered in soft exclamation. Her skin was clammy, but a rich tan shone through with a near glow. Black hair was matted and part of it seemed stuck to the side of the woman's flushed cheeks. There, the smallest dimple formed on either side of her smile toward me.

"Who are you?" I asked, blinking intently, and in an instant my words seemed to shatter the woman and she knew why the doctor was making his way in. Her smile vanished and thread into a straight line accompanied by a soft crease that formed between her brows. It was a deep disbelief that rippled through her, but before I could intake all of her motion, I was pulled from the nurse and held into the sights of the doctor that now held me.

He was quite young, perhaps old enough to be a doctor, but just barely if so. Not even a hint of stubble was evident on his elongated chin, and a youthful twinkle still lingered in his hazel eyes. The nurse too came into view before me, both of them appeared to be quite young and behind them I could see a blur of people roughly between the ages of fifteen and thirty running around frantically in scrubs.

That is when it hit me.

When the disease hit, nearly everyone over the age of thirty-five had fallen dead, something about their bodies was unable to carry them the weeks the rest of us lasted in deprivation. All that had been left were the young. There had been rumors of people who had escaped the contamination, we had been doubtful, yet here it was evident that at least enough existed to upkeep a hospital. The first onset had knocked out communication to most everywhere; it was comforting to hear earlier that some sort of radio signal was still being let out.

But there was one fact that rattled me the most.

I had been born back into the hell I had just left, and by some twisted miracle I was aware of it.

"Can you understand me?" Dr. Langry asked, capturing my gaze into his.

"Of course I can fucking understand you." It may have been a harsh reply, but if I was going to play the 'talk for me' game like some circus freak, I wasn't going to do it nicely.

Showing no initial reaction to the harsh tone in my tiny voice, the doctor continued on in wonder, "This is amazing! We all thought it was a lie, nothing in medical science can explain this! How can one be born completely mentally developed?"

"I died first, that's how." I answered him coldly.

"Died?"

"Yes….died….dead as a door nail after being a shriveled up, starving lunatic for weeks. And now I am right back in this shithole."

"When?"

"When what?"

"When did you die?"

I paused, lowering my gaze in thought. How long had it been since my husband and I had been on the beach, sand in our toes, lounging in the warm summer sun? When was that fateful day they had returned to the sturdy little cottage along the shore to news reports of a ravenous pandemic? Had I even looked at the calendar before we started the journey home? Trying so hard to focus I remembered, a vague image of the last minutes my cell phone had service.

I had called my brother.

"_Well, it's the same here, and they say most of the mid-west is infected now too." He said quickly to his wife as he slid back next to her. Their dusty 98' jeep wrangler was parked at the side of a long stretch of road. To their left was a large assembly of cars, trucks, busses, RV's, semis, all people trying desperately to flee. It was from here her husband had just come, and with him he brought more bad news. _

"_I need to call Tony." She uttered softly back, brushing aside a few stray strands of sandy hair, she reached for her cell phone. Used to the motion, she hit speed dial #2 and listened patiently as each ring passed. _

"_Hey."_

"_Hey…."_

"_You aren't saying anything sis…must be bad news then?"_

"_Nothing we didn't already know Tony…I just had hoped it wouldn't be true, but we've heard so much…I don't think we can avoid it."_

"_You think we should tell um? I mean I know they think their old bird retirement home has everything covered but…"_

"_But it doesn't matter how great the place is if EVERYONE over thirty-five is dying. It's insane Tony, I've seen it myself. When we stopped with a group near Bakersfield one child became sick and suddenly all thirteen in the party over thirty-five just dropped dead. It's only been 4 days, this is just too much, I think it's just going to get worse.'_

"_Gee, great way to be positive!" Her brother laughed, the sound of it left a mimicking smile on her lips, though annoying, it was nice to know someone could still laugh. _

"_Shut it Tony," smothering her smile she continued, "We've got to get serious about this. Mom and dad are all the way across the country and the way things are moving we won't get up to you for another week or two."_

"_I'll meet you guys at that silly bed and breakfast you call home, that way I don't have to stay cooped up here in the rain."_

"_Ok, so, how do we go about this?"_

"'_Hey mom and pops, guess what, you're going to die'"_

"_Tony….this isn't funny" _

_On the other line she heard a break in her brother's voice, "I know…come on now, don't crush my last attempts to not be devastated by this. Neither of us WANT to believe this is real, neither of us WANT to call um to tell them that any day now they are going to die. You deal with it by being stern and serious, I do it with jokes…but I guess in the end we are going to lose them…but until it hits me I'm going to keep trying to jokin, ok Ms. Serious?" His voice was sincere, and even a hint of logic in his lunacy, but she too knew that it would hit them soon and when it did it wasn't going to be pretty. _

"_Which one of us is going to do it?"_

"_Tell Robert to think of a number between one and ten."_

_She rolled her eyes and turned to her husband who was intently waiting on their conversation, "Tony says to think of a number between one and ten."_

"_Ok," sitting on it a moment her husband replied, "Alright, got it."_

"_Ok Tony."_

"_7"_

"_7, and I say….4"_

"_It was 8"_

"_8, alright bro, that mean's it's up to the oldest to get the duty done." She waited for a reply but heard nothing, "Tony? Can you hear me?" still nothing, "Hmm, call must have dropped." Taking the phone from her ear she looked at the screen to confirm the drop. Once the notification cleared it jumped to the main screen. _

_**No Service**_

"_Well isn't that a bitch…well now I couldn't call them if I wanted to. Hope Tony heard me before it dropped."_

"_I'm sure he did babe. We'd better get going."_

_Simply nodding at her husband, she looked down at the screen one more time, studying the date and time again before putting it away. _

10:36 am, May 25th, four days after the onset, the last time I'd talked to anyone in my family. A painful twinge came at the thought of what had ever become of them. It must have been at least a month after my service dropped when my life too ended.

"Mid June…that is when I died." I whispered. Beginning to tremble ever so slightly in memory, I shook myself back to reality.

"Hmm…that is interesting." The left corner of his lips drew into a half smile, almost intrigued.

"What?"

"Well, today is March 23rd." His smile grew a little as he said this, gauging my reaction, and evident in his, my expression shown my recognition of the time lapse. Nine months had passed. Had I slept that whole time, thinking this was death.

"Where am I doc?"

"You are in upper New York State, at, to the best of our knowledge, one of a few of hospitals still functioning on this side of the states."

"Isn't that some shit…I died in Cali."

With a raised brow in reply to my remark the doctor noted, "Well that is fascinating, there is so much to start thinking about. I mean…how did"

"What's in Illinois?" I had to cut him off before the thought lead into waters of fathomed thoughts not even yet waded by logical men and then he would never shut up.

"Oh, yes, yes of course, we received word yesterday evening that a child had been born. Not only was it the first child born since the walking death, but the child could talk fluently, as though it had a fully developed mindset. We all thought it was absurd, even the most senior of doctors left didn't want to believe in rumors…but now…ha…now we know. It's a miracle; it has to be an answer to all of this."

"Don't hold your breath doc. I only see this as a return ticket to hell with a pair of lungs that haven't seen eleven years of nicotine and a tiny body that can't do crap…but crap." I found myself letting out a sarcastic little giggle, but it was edged in an anxiety I could not hold back.

"See it as you may kid, or well….heck, how….old are you?"

"Woulda been twenty-six last September."

"Well that makes you older then me, guess I can't call you kid then heh."

"Pretty young for a doctor."

"Well when the world is falling apart, makes more sense to graduate doesn't it?" A grin had made its full effect on the young Dr. Langry's face with a rich sarcastic tone adjacent. "But enough of this chit chat, I've got to show you off!" Without waiting for a protest, he turned and rushed toward the door. Behind us, I saw the woman who was my "mother", shake herself from confusion and cry out to the doctor, pleading to bring her baby back.

That was the last time I saw the woman who first re-bore me into this hell, and I was the second to return, there was hope to not be alone.


	3. Road to Another part 3

Massena Memorial Hospital overlooked the St. Lawrence river, a key gateway to a history that was long lost in books left dusty in corners of schools, stashed away to give room for makeshift shelters. The tall windows that were the elegant face of the hospital, had once held a luster, but no longer as there was a lack of superficial upkeep, such things weren't important now. Small patches of grass grew wild, the trees reflected a more natural, less trimmed appeal these days, and a garden had been tilled in the half acre park next door. Inside it seemed as though every space available was occupied by refugees, their belongings, and clumsily hung blankets that served as dividers. Most of the medical equipment had been concentrated on the main and second levels as well as the birthing center on the first level, the unit I'd first come to know here. The lower, first and third levels had been converted into an accumulation of living quarters, I wasn't allowed here often.

I spent my first three years of re-birth confined to its five levels, weaving between lumps of people nestled in blankets still rank with bleach. As my body was not ready to move the way my mind willed it, the doctors but together braces for my back and limbs that allowed my body to keep up for the first two years. Each day was a test, an observation, but still they knew nothing. Parts of my body seemed to accelerate in growth as there were parts of the brain with concentrated awareness now that had never been present in an infant before. While it was not long before the braces were no longer needed, it was, on a whole, not a very dramatic change. I grew perhaps a few centimeters more then even average children each year and built muscle structure rapidly, frequently exercising to fill my time. My body was much quicker in adapting to more substantial food than the sour formula, though with teeth still on an average time-line, I was still limited. A few times I heard about the woman who'd brought me here, she would cry out for her baby, that her baby was the miracle baby, soon they transferred her.

They didn't ask much about my past, to them the life that ended was nothing; the continuance of it was their main concern. I did not reflect on that time much, my own curiosity served a decent distraction and it would take my next step to revive these images.

While the hospital was decent a facility, all the research that could be done had been, and it was requested that I be moved to Chicago to join studies with the first child, Marco. This would be the first time I would look beyond the sanctuary of Massena, see what this world had become while I sat locked away, staring out a rain spattered window at the grey waters of the St. Lawrence. At the time I had been relieved to go, restless thoughts folding around me as I paced through the hallways. If only I had known, been prepared, because the haze in the distance seemed innocently portrayed, yet it hid away a chaos that was going to consume us all.

"It's time Oriana," once, they had asked me what my name was, I had one to give them, but it was no longer mine. Upon refusal to provide a name, my appointed nurse came up with Oriana, an Italian name meaning 'To rise'. I'd laughed at her at first, yet now it seemed to have a ring to it, "We need to get you moving, before the rain gets any heavier."

I simply nodded as I took the hand of my nurse, it was much easier to cling onto childlike behaviors when the world could so easily crush you, and no one was sure if this second life was the last. Being stubborn wasn't worth the effort when every moment was a guess, I'd even given up parts of my fiery nature to try and figure out WHY I was here. An anxiety had built in my gut since the time they told me I would be leaving; soon I would be with someone else like me, someone who knew.

"Marco…" I whispered softly under my breath, walking two steps to my nurse's one, trying to focus on all the things I wanted to talk to him about.

A soft whistle cried through the gap at the bottom of the front entrance way. The threatening wind outside breathing in the last chill of winter, fewer people made camp near the inconvenient breeze, and my departure was a minimally viewed one. Obediently, the doors parted when the motion detector indicated it to do so, and blasted us with sharp sprays of rain. A line of vehicles awaited us, some fanciful part of me had imagined something like in the movies, shiny new cars that would indicate some sort of government still maintained us, I was wrong. Many of them were economy cars, dented, chipped, and had windows reinforced on the inside with chicken wire. Later on I would learn the dents had come from the weeks after the first wave. People had panicked when the sickness began to fester in the masses. Few cars made it as far as the sanctuary of Massena, and were ravaged by the pounding fists of thousands of souls gone mad. It didn't take long before the air infested the disease too in the people who'd tried to escape and were unlucky enough to be battered to a stop. This trip was the first time many of our party had even dared leave, and while they felt a higher purpose in this trip, nothing could shake the tension that hung in a cloud above us.

My nurse shuffled me into a muddy '01 Chevy Impala, situated me into a somewhat humiliating car seat, and landed one last affectionate peck on my forehead before offering a teary goodbye. She wished me luck, hope for all of us that someday we would know, and to listen to Sam, my driver. No matter how often I proved I was in fact an adult on the inside, I feared I would never evade being treated like a child, at least until my body grew out of the role.

Sam was among the oldest in our caravan, 29, and one of the two who'd frequently left the city wall, that's why I'd innocently suggested he drive me. When I left this place I was intent on understanding what I saw, while I knew not what to expect, I knew it wasn't going to be simple.

With each car door finally shut, and each person situated, the line began to move, making its way down barren streets to the wall. There was a new story cast on the historical district we passed through, charred buildings left a muggy odor of burn lingering even through the rain, and havoc scattered debris across once pampered lawns. Bones, some blacked with smoke, and others picked clean, were haunting remnants of something even my curiosity could not stomach.

Massena's wall was one of the last structures build here by the remaining government that crumbled shortly after the disease broke its vicious potential. A vast electric wall, it had one opening that served as entry and exit. The car's air vents filled with a putrid smell that drifted through the heating to make me gag, a strange smoky, bitter taste rising in the back of my throat.

Burning flesh.

It wasn't long till it was our turn to pass through the gate, and as soon as the other side came into view I drew all attention to what I expected was carnage.

All along the wall there were burn marks from where the diseased had tried to gain entrance and failed. Smoke still rose from the singed grass and brush but, to an odd fascination, there were no bodies to be found. It was evident that many times it had been attempted and no doubt ably many had died here, but where did their bodies go? Having to move slowly through the road, rubble blocking everywhere, we lingered long enough to draw attention.

I could feel them suddenly. They stood watching us from the trees, the red eyes fixated with a starved lust, ominous like the crowd which gathers to a funeral march.

"Don't worry," I must have had a concerned look at my face as I returned their stare, "None of us are sick, they will leave us alone here. There are plenty more in that city, it's about the feast to them, not the snack. When we are in more secluded areas, it won't be the same. Walking death may have taken away their souls, but their minds are just as keen and when they can't find food, they make it."

"I suppose that was meant to comfort me?"

"Oriana, I don't know what sort of fairy tales they've told you in the hospital, but there isn't any comfort left in this world. Some of us can choose to stay locked away, thinking they're safe, but we can't hide from the sickness when it has a mind and body to survive with. Those THINGS will find their way into the city soon; it's just a matter of time." About to pull out of view, I witnessed more gathering along the tree line, their movements were quick and I couldn't keep track of one from the other. Tattered clothes were caked with blood, and each face held a twisted grin that claimed an expression of wanting, wanting to rip into the delicious flesh this curse provided them.

"Here," Sam reached into the pack on the passenger side seat and pulled out a small tablet and juice, "It's a sedative, they asked me to offer it to you, it will make this time between here and our first stop much easier."

"What is the next stop anyway?" I questioned, grasping the pill and juice awkwardly with my chubby little fingers.

"Buffalo or at least what we hope is still Buffalo. We haven't heard anything from them for a day or two, but enough questions, just pop the pill and I'll wake you when we are there." There was no point in agitating my driver now with questions, after all we still had a few days ahead of us, and not wanting to ruin my chance at information, I did as told.

Within a few minutes the world began to soften, my lids became too heavy to hold open anymore and the blurred scenery outside disappeared behind a veil of black.

Uproar of screams and a harsh jolt brought me back through the veil. All around me the car shook as hundreds of hands fall upon us and the screams came from the twisted faces just on the other side of the glass. Like a pack of wolves howling as they descended on their prey, the sound was an agonizing pulse that nearly stopped my heart in fear. Souls writhing in pain at the hungry devouring them inside, desperate to just leak a bit of sick into the cars and the morsels within, the banshee herself would have cowered.

"What the fuck! Where are we?!"

"Buffalo" Sam said quietly with a stone cold air to his voice, he knew what we would find here. Past the swarm of bodies, I could see a lucent orange sky, clouds cradling in the heat from fires still burning away the place once known as Buffalo, New York. An eerie silhouette was cast on the clouds, half tumbled titans of buildings now just flickering impressions in the smoke filled atmosphere. There was a fever here, the walking death had brought down this great city in a heat of appetency, now the residents of Buffalo either walked with them or were embraced in the rotting bellies of the frenzied.

"What are we going to do?! They're everywhere! Oh my fucking god, do something Sam!" I couldn't hold back even a moment of panic. I didn't want to go back to the hunger that needed to gorge itself beyond any desire I'd ever known, no, I couldn't.

"Don't worry, it will be over soon. Just waiting on the signal…" he trailed off, keeping close watch on the old Lumina van in front of us. No one else seemed to be panicking the way I was. I was the only one who'd not experienced this yet, the only one who'd died before this pandemonium had planted fear so deep in their hearts. Suddenly, a car horn sounded three vehicles up at the lead, and each car behind followed suit. Startling them away just a moment, it gave them all time to process the next movement. Sam reached for series of buttons on a small control pad that had been rigged in the wire filled cavity that once held a stereo. Letting escape a small sigh of relief, he pressed the button.

Above me a deep reverberating click signified the release of one of the mechanisms each of the cars had been equipped with and this was shortly followed by a deafening bang. The swelling horde was hit with a barrage of molten buck shot that ejected from two canisters protruding from both sides of each vehicle top. What came next shakes my heart even now; reverberation of its memory brings chills still.

An almost silly memory triggered the visual of a documentary on national geographic about wildlife in the Rocky Mountains. During a certain segment, two tom mountain lions were locked in an epic battle for a kill, or so how it had been introduced. Between vicious lashes and lunges, one of them emitted a high-pitched, bloodcurdling scream. At the time I imaged that is how it must sound when a woman's left screaming while her innards are being torn out. This was closest I could think to resemble what I heard.

In one mass oscillation, the diseased ones quaked and raised glance to the fire illuminated sky. Letting forth a lament of miserable death, they resonated in every depth of space around us, clutching even to our quickened hearts.

Their crimson optics faded to void, empty sockets exuding black particles that twisted and curled through the heated air. Cheeks fell back to bone and toothy grins began to dissipate in the hail of ebony dust and rose, evening darkening the fires encompassing us. Bodies followed suit and soon there was nothing but black. Screams dulled to agonized whispers soon smothered by the sound of our tires crunching over what remained of them. I could not help the tears that slid so quietly from my eyes as we quickened out pace. Begging my own heart to slow down, I covered my eyes and fell back into my seat.

"Can I get out of this ridiculous car seat yet?" I uttered almost mechanically toward the annoyance which confined me.

"Oh, yeah, sure, don't even know why you let um do that to ya anyway." Sam looked back and offered a smile, "It gets easier to handle Oriana. I won't lie to you though, it's always going to be look and sound like that."

"You know…I hope in Chicago the 'bodily challenged' are given a little more dignity." I mimicked his smile as I referred to the car seat and unbuckled myself.

"You're a lot tougher then the act you put up you know."

"Don't go blowing my cover now. Hey, can I sit up there?"

"You think you can handle the view?"

Pulling the last strap from my shoulders I replied, "I think I can handle it Sam. Hell even if I can't I'd better start learning hadn't I?"

Three times we had to stop and 'clear the way' while we made route through Buffalo. Luckily a few stocks remained, gas stations far enough from the flames, and, most importantly to Sam, coffee and cigarettes. Since no word had come from this direction for a time, a second wind of drivers had slept the ride hence in precaution. Sam took the ridiculous seat out and was soon a snoring lump on the back seat. His replacement was the slightly more optimistic Anne.

Eighteen and feisty, we got along right away. I'd never seen her at the hospital and learned she'd come from the high school refuge to help transport me. Since her family had all but disappeared in the midst of all this insanity, she was an eager candidate to leave Massena. It wasn't long before the three of us formed a cooperative traveling crew. Sam was too stubborn to admit it, but having an extra laugh here and there made the trip easier.

Anne was mostly unique in the scar that crossed her left cheek. It was deep, wide, dull white from age, and started from the cheekbone just under the eye to her upper lip.

"Oh that old thing! Got that biking when I was 10. Not too exciting of a story. My brother dared me to take this trail we'd only seen our dad go down, defiantly too much for a 2-speed, but I didn't care ha! Went off a small cliff and into a tree, broke two ribs and my ankle. Man, my mom didn't let me leave the house for weeks!"

"Did it hurt? You say it like it was a scrapped knee."

"Well of course it hurt, hurt like hell, a lot of things do, but honestly what's that pain worth holding onto?"

We weren't always met with the same tragedy as Buffalo.

Detroit had been abandoned over two years go, and served as a supply station, nothing else. A military stronghold had maintained base in Jackson, Michigan. It seemed, though to no one's surprise, the military had lasted, and to most extents, replaced the remaining government. One would have thought the two were one, but diplomacy can easily be annihilated in chaos. Perhaps this was the reason why so few medical establishments still stood. While they were not beyond giving aid and supply, theirs views on the situation were quite different from my first experience in this hell.

Massena had always been quiet. Cars and people would rarely venture by and outside the only activity could be seen in the garden. In all the long days I stood watching the world, I did not imagine places like Jackson still existed.

The wall built around Jackson reminded me of a prison, and as we entered I honestly couldn't set if it was meant to keep something out, or something in. Directly on the other side we were met by a bustling metropolis of survivors. A mix of military uniforms and pedestrian drab formed a sea of vibrant life, nearly busting at the seams of the great wall. Every part of the city had been maintained to regulate trade, shops still offered product and restaurants still let linger tantalizing scents that lured even the stubborn closer. Though things like nose hair clippers, pet fashion accessories and coffee mugs with quirky sayings were non-existent, a prosperous trade of essentials was at its peak. In the distance I swore I heard a school bell ring, something about that sound warmed my heart and added a strange comfort to my view here.

"People here don't seem afraid." I muttered quietly to Sam. "They act like the disease doesn't even exist."

"They think they have found safety."

"But it's really just ignorance." Anne chimed in before Sam continued.

"For some, it's easier to let the gun do the thinking for them. Authority gives the illusion of control, and the lips of authority dictate order."

"If you ask me, that makes it only that much worse when the sickness leaks in here, it always finds a way." Anne's own words quieted her, something neither Sam nor I had accomplished so far.

"It's kinda hard to know which end is better." I stated.

"Neither is, it's just two sides of a spectrum, either they try to weather the storm or they try to face it. You'll drive yourself insane trying to sway between the two, best thing is to just follow your heart and not be a sheep." Even though, in reality's sake, Sam was not much older then I, but it seemed the world had already aged him. Through his wise words it was obvious he'd lived more lives then he'd originally set forth to.

"Having a mindset of comfort, in my opinion, isn't worth following the military so blindly…we know what they are capable of." Her voice filled with a brief anger as she glared on into the checkpoint we were approaching.

_The jeep door shut, waking her up. She'd propped herself against the window, dark circler under her eyes proof she'd just nodded off. _

"_We need to get out of here." Her husband muttered as he fumbled for the keys. _

"_Huh? What…what time is it?"_

"_Close to four am I think. There aren't many awake yet, not many that know…"_

"_Know what?"_

_He gripped the steering wheel, looked ahead, judged his words, and then turned to his wife. _

"_What IS it Robert?"_

"_They are killing people."_

"_Who?"_

"_I don't know…military maybe? The disease, it's spreading everywhere…even the people who aren't sick…they're killing them…trying to quarantine." Panic had left his words blank, as though he was desperately trying to process the reality of the situation. _

_Out of nervous habit, she pulled her sweater around her and shivered despite the heat, fully awake now. _

"_How do you know?"_

"_We needed water...a couple of guys were up listening to an old ham radio. When I'd asked if they'd heard anything new they said nothing had come in for a week and the last news was simply that it was spreading. Someone came on air as I was leaving…."He trailed off, the smallest bit of moisture formed to the corner of his eye as he looked away from her and into the darkness. _

"_Well? What did it say?"_

"_It was a woman…and her children…you could hear the children screaming. She wasn't infected…she begged for someone to help her children…no one was listening, they were shooting anyway. The gunfire grew louder, there were more screams. She said they were in San Jose…kept begging and begging…but the gunfire was almost so loud we had to cover our ears…and then the line cut." He trembled lightly and lifted a hand to smother his forehead, overwhelmed with what he now knew. _

"_That's only 120 miles from here…"She whispered in shock, realizing the urgency of his nervous movement. _

"_We need to go before the rest find out. Before the roads are too full and we can't even run from them."_

"_Do we have enough gas?"_

"_Don't worry babe, I've got it covered." Reassurance covered the anxiety in his tone for a moment as he backed from the tightly packed parking lot. Turning down the isle, their lights reflected across the cold chrome which held so many people still unaware, people that could soon be eliminated. The blue glow of the giant Wal-Mart sign flickered as we passed under it toward the security point. All other entrances had been blocked off to channel and observe all traffic that passed though, most places had established these formations. Of course, this was only a last ditch effort to make it seem like there was still control. _

"_Heading out folks?" The stocky, middle-age security guard asked with a yawn._

"_Gotta hit the five before Sacramento starts waking up." Robert replied coolly._

"_I heard ya man, yesterday it was backed all over the city by 9 am, today feels like a crazy coming on."_

"_You have no idea…"Her husband muttered before speeding off. _

_A short distance away he let out a deep breath and turned to her, "I love you."_

"_It's not the end Robert." She tried to assuring the lost feeling he'd hinted in his voice._

"_Does that matter love? Doesn't have to be the end for me to love you." He reached for her hand and drew the back of it to his lips. Landing a gentle kiss there, he held on just a bit longer before settling both hands to rest on his knee. "I'll always love you and we WILL make it. Luck wouldn't have worked for well for us thus far if it wasn't meant to be."_

_His wife smiled at him, an innocent twinkle reflecting in her blue eyes, "I love you too Robert…even if this isn't fate, and we're just heading to the end, I'm glad that I have you here with me."_

There was a tension with either party in Jackson, one thing that stayed the same, here or Massena; there was a slight animosity for anything from the outside. While the people in Jackson were welcoming enough, we knew even a nights rest here would cause anxiety. Besides maintaining formalities, we were just another day's drive from our destination, and even the promise of a day or two of good rest wasn't enough to keep us longer then required. Most of the hotels in town had been turned into apartments to cater to the growing population here and only an old Super 8 had enough room to house us for the evening.

"I can't wait to meet him." I admitted to Anne later. We sat in the room we shared with two other girls named Charlotte, a plainly twenty-seven year old, and Naomi, a rather short twenty-three year old with bad breath.

"Who?"

"Marco."

"Oh! You mean the first person re-born right?" Anne ran a comb through her shoulder length black hair, each straight strand glistening naturally in the light.

"Yea…I've got so many questions."

"I'm sure he has plenty for you too, but just remember he's probably just as in the dark as we are."

"You think…there will be any more? Do you think Marco and I are the only ones who are going to come back?"

"You know I can't answer that silly. We could all guess but when it comes down to it someone is going to be wrong…so I'd rather just leave it up to the odds."

"How is life so simple for you?" I smiled at her, simply captivated at the even optimism she could still maintain.

"Told ya Oriana, what's the point in hanging onto pain? Worry is just another form of pain, and the more time we waste on that, the less we have here for the important stuff….like pillow fights for example!" Laughing, she reached for the nearest fluff filled cotton bag and swung for me. These were some of the moment I would always treasure, because they meant nothing more then they were, happy. Being with Sam, the only person who treated me like the adult I was, and Anne, almost like an older sister to me.

"I'll never know how I ended with two scholars as drivers!" I shouted before diving at Anne with my own pillow ammunition.

I believe it was exhaustion that lead to the chorus of steady breathing and the occasional snore around me, but nothing could put my mind to rest that night. I'd managed to just settle myself down when the world swung back into motion and it was time to leave. Everything past this moment was a blur; I don't even remember being processed as we left Jackson. I could not tell you if I saw any green grass beginning to peak up through the gray landscape along highway 94, nor could I tell you if it was clear or cloudy skies. All I remember was the annoyance of obstacles that continually made the trip much slower when once, in a civilized time, it would have been a two day trip at most.

Coming into Chicago didn't leave much of an impression on me. The wall surrounding it resembled that of Massena, just a much larger scale and started at one end near Lake Station, Indiana, just outside of Chicago. Unlike most of the boundaries formed around cities, Chicago had multiple entry and exits. Gulls flew low along the water I hardly paid any mind to, and some people actually ventured outside of the wall on a regular basis to fish. Anne told me Chicago was the last place to get infected, and was the most successful is getting it out. The University of Chicago Medical Center had become the top leading medical facility in the remaining USA.

A toll station now served as one of the main entrances, security and a small number of medical staff manned the station for possible threats.

"Once we're through we'll cut onto highway 90, and turn to make our way over to the hospital a lil ways after 94 and 90 meet." Sam commented and I intently watched out the window now, just so very close.

Letting out a soft sigh I turned back to him, "How much longer?"

"Well, back in the day 5'oclock traffic was a bitch here, but if it's let up we ought to be there in a little over 30 minutes. So CALM down." His chuckled left a scowl on my face as I tried to act like I didn't know what he was talking about. Crossing my arms I slid back into the passenger seat. "You know, they are going to have to lock you two in a room for a week just so you can get done asking each other questions. Maybe then we will get a word in. The way your being so quiet the last day I'd say you're about to burst."

"Shut up Sam, just drive faster ya mook." I mumbled and flashed him a stubborn grin.

I'd never been into Chicago before, once when I was little my family flew through O'Hare, but I only got a snowy glimpse of the city this was. Part of me was sad that I had not known that it looked like before, and most of me couldn't even imagine what it had been in comparison. It was a thriving place, not quite as upbeat as Jackson, but certainly here everyone was living not hiding. Trade had fallen to a more minimalist approach and most of the shops had been closed down, but there were concentrated and regulated areas of exchange. Life was dispersed evenly throughout the city, while its main accumulations were centered on the universities, hospitals and larger school districts. The airport still occasionally saw people from places still able to operate such machinery. None of the traffic was commercial anymore; this posed one of the higher risks of infection getting in.

Traffic was luckily very thin, gas only really wasted with necessary, and only minor manmade obstacles stalled us. It wasn't very long till we were at the point where highway 90 and 94 met. From the passenger's side I could see a large park. It stretched over a few miles behind a bunch of housing. We all moved off the highway and onto a frequented road called Garfield Blvd.

Signs advertised things like a public pool, Washington Park, Stagg Field, University of Chicago, and various hospital information were our first welcomes. Weaving through the park I noticed emergency tents, one nearly the size of a football field, had been erected on either side of the park. Most of the smaller tents, amidst this sea of white, gray, and beige peaks, were sorry homes for what most would consider unfortunate. Even when the world was in shambles, it was still not above people to place others 'lower' in society and material wealth in 'lower' standards living quarters. The benefit was, to their unlucky advantage, that they were so close to the hospital. Also, the congregation of so much life in this one area made it less frigid then on the cold sidewalks downtown. For some of the people residing in those tents, it was a step up, and the disease was almost a blessing in disguise.

Garfield Blvd had ended as we entered the park and turned left down Morgan Dr, the road that now twined us past the small tent city. As the tents thinned we wound south, next to us was an impressive conglomerate of buildings that summed up the university area. It was hard to make out which building was the hospital in the cluster to our left, or rather how many of the buildings were the hospital. A smaller street, East 58th, turned and brought us alongside an enormous building of tan, hinted with a vibrant light blue trim. There was a larger turn about in front of the building that served as a wide, still well maintained, courtyard.

University of Chicago Medical Center

A blue-topped pavilion reached out from under the metallic words, below it was surely the entrance. While Sam turned into the courtyard, I strained to see through the small crowd gathered under the blue. Halting directly at the entryway, my eyes found what they were looking for.

Standing next to a tall, blonde nurse was a boy who looked around the age five. He would be three now, but like me he grew differently. Bright red hair almost glowed in the fluorescent light that had come on as dusk was setting in. Round little cheeks were smothered in freckles against a very pale exterior. He'd formed a soft welcoming smile upon his thin lips, and cautiously offered up a wave when he too found me.

His eyes, they were so unique, yet recognizable as our views locked. They were a deep brown, doe-like, yet like mine, the innocence was gone. Here were eyes and a mind that did not belong in the vessel that now served their home, like me…

"Marco…" I whispered.


	4. What Happened in San Jose? pt 4

The first week with Marco was over in a whirlwind. We were hardly given a moment to talk alone between the becoming familiar pokes and prods of research. After a few days it was quite apparent that neither of us varied extraordinarily in physical growth and development.

Almost through a silent agreement, we didn't talk about our previous lives around anyone. We both knew they didn't understand and it was like a secret burden that was not meant for them. For the entire first day we didn't even get to a hello, there was too much urgency to investigate.

Up to their disappointment of nothing new, the only time Marco and I were in the same room, we were being asked questions or performing a required action. By day four we were at last given a peaceful meal while they stewed over what to do next.

"Never thought I'd be wishing to be big enough to not listen to the 'grown ups' again." Marco said quietly to me as he placed a pea-green lunch tray next to mine. His voice has a pleasantly lush Latino undertone and from the moment I first heard it come from a redhead, I laughed.

"I know what you mean. But what's worse is having to get a chair, three phone books and a crate to see the top shelf anymore." I smiled.

"Ahem, well ironically enough, we have not been properly introduced," extending a freckled hand, he took mine and briefly shook it, "I'm Marco Alonzo Donetello, mom was Italian, Cruz."

"Oriana."

"Well don't I feel extravagant! Is that all? Oriana?" Marco sat down next to me, a slight intrigue on his brow.

"That's what my nurse called me, in Massena. The name from my first life…well it didn't seem important anymore. Even my first moment back I knew that wasn't me anymore." I toyed with some canned veggies, chasing a carrot chunk with my spoon.

"Hmm, guess I never thought of it that way. Before my mother died, she used to always say I had a dignified name. A great-great-grandfather of mine named Marco was the first to come to America." He laughed softly under his breath and looked at me as he went on, "She threatened to divorce my dad and give me an Italian last name if she couldn't name me Marco. I think Jose Jr was the original idea, but somehow it ended up in a mouthful." I began enjoying his laugh instantly, and it was an oddly pleasant and morbid thing reflecting on the past with him.

"See, I don't quite have as good a story as that, I always thought my name was rather plain. In fact, a lot of my life was quite mediocre."

"Defiantly has changed for you then I'm sure. Oriana is nice, I think I had a distant cousin by that name, Italian right?"

"Yes, my nurse was half, she said the name means 'to rise'" The corner of my lip twisted into a smile, "I called her ironic, but it fit right enough."

Neither of us could seem to eat, we were both just too curious. We had been alone in our minds for over three years.

"So, Oriana, where are you from?"

"Well, I grew up in Portland, but my husband and I had a bed and breakfast in Shasta Lake, California. That's where I died." I know I had meant to sound sad about the event. Even mentioning my husband for the first time in years, it didn't seem to faze me.

"Oh yea? I grew up in California. My family moved to San Jose before I was born with my two sisters. I wasn't there when I died though. I'd gone to Memphis on a job two days before the whole thing came down, I think I died near Kansas?"

"What did you do?" I slightly interrupted.

"Oh, I'm, or I guess I was an architect."

"You still are, the world just isn't ready for any buildings designed by three year old fingers."

Grinning again he said, "Well I suppose that's where this conversation started didn't it? Limits?" Marco's smile faded slightly, "So you died in Cali?"

"Yeah, I did."

"Maybe you can tell me, San Jo…"

"ORIANA!" Shouted a familiarity flamboyant voice, Anne popped into view and broke the moment. "Figured the first chance I get to see you is food associated, I knew my gut was grumbling fate!"

"Marco, this is Anne, Anne this is Marco."

Thus abruptly ended my first moment alone with Marco, and left in his eyes was a lost look that I would rarely find in him, though each time I did, it left me slightly empty. We both had ghost that haunted us that even then we were not ready to touch upon. I knew there was a lot we could discover from each other. One thing I dreaded however was when he would inevitably inquire about San Jose, as his interrupted question had looked to be. I would never forget how Robert looked as he told me about the screams.

Two more days of analyzing and they finally left us both to our own accord. From what they had gathered, it seemed parts of our brain had shown slight flares of activity that were almost never present in the common mind. These flares seemed to spark almost instantly upon our connection, and though they were small, even the smallest thing for them to ponder over was something.

We had never really concerned with the scientific questions. Raised in a religious home, one would have assumed I too would fall into its ranks. However, I had always been a questioner and while the stories were helpful, they didn't have my answers. My parents never opposed, saying god would find his lamb again one day.

I never did return to the church. Still after everything that had happened, I didn't believe any of this was a miracle of god to punish the world, or a plague of the devil, sent to ruin us.

"Did you have any kids?" He asked one rainy morning as he approached me, leaning against a window silently watching two gulls pay an aeronautic tag.

"Hmm? Oh, no, we were thinking about it, never happened. I think the vacation we had been on was supposed to fix that, but alas, things happen."

"Like the apocalypse?"

I laughed, "Yes, the world's end as we know it, must surely be the biggest turn off ever."

"Well not exactly. Some people had to get randy enough to make us right? And who knows, maybe a few near apocalyptic nights will bring us some friends." He leaned forward and breathed onto the glass, a misty white imprint left behind. Tracing with his finger, he drew four small stick figures.

He was a sweet individual, and even now, as a slight frown painted his features, it couldn't dim his calming air. "I had a daughter. Her mother and I had never been married. We raised her very happily apart, being better friends then a couple. We were one of the lucky few that could leave on good terms. Autumn was her name, mother's choice, she was born February 26th, eight years ago."

"How old are you Marco?"

"Including the last few years, twenty-eight, but that's only till next month, then I'll be twenty-nine. You?"

"I'll be thirty in September."

"Never thought I'd hear a little kid say that and mean it." The sarcastic tones of Sam drifted in from behind us. "You didn't tell me you were older then me pipsqueak?"

"Didn't seem important at the time." I uttered with a grin to Sam.

"Hey Marco" Sam nodded toward Marco in recognition.

"Hi Sam." The two had met shortly after Anne's interruption, her and Sam becoming noticeably inseparable.

"Well as much as I'd like to stand and talk legos with you fine little people, I've got to get going."

"We've got to get going." Anne chirped coming up alongside Sam.

Rolling his eyes he continued "Looks like Massena calls us back."

"What do you mean?" I asked, turning sharply to face the two, "You aren't staying?"

"Oh god…I knew that look was going to kill me!" Anne cried as she absentmindedly scooped me up into as much of a bear hug as her tiny frame could muster. "We have to Oriana. We did what we had to, we got you here and now we have to get back. I still have a second cousin waiting to here what it's like out here." Winking she added, "Maybe I can convince her Chicago is the bee's knees."

"We'll come back Oriana, I promise." Sam honestly meant it, but, as they let me go and walked away, I knew that was the last time I'd see them like that.

"We aren't alone Oriana! We aren't alone!" Nearly a month had passed since Sam and Anne left. I sat on the lower level lounge area, sprawled across a chair reading through a nurse's handbook.

Barely glancing over the book at him, I muttered, "What are you going on about now?"

"There are five others! At least five so far in the states, we just got word. Three of them were born almost two years ago! It's just been so long since news came from anywhere that no one even knew!" Stopping his run to catch his breath, Marco let in a sharp gasp of air before he sat down in the chair next to mine. "Two were born last week in Seattle. We aren't alone anymore, and people are coming back!"

"Marco?" I asked with a serious air to my voice.

"Yea?"

"Did you die because you were sick?"

"Yeah, a group of us tried lasting it out in a Sam's club. Eventually someone got sick and soon we all couldn't eat or drink. Half of us died before that god awful hunger set in. One of them had been a little girl. We were all too weak to even move the bodies far. The night we became hungry, we all at first fought it…but that didn't last long for most. Soon this teenage boy drug one of the bodies closer and started to give in, just making a glutton of himself. He kept saying how good it was, how the hunger was gone. Within minutes all the bodies were brought out. Each bite made them stronger, quicker, filled in the void the disease had left…it was so tempting…till they brought out the little girl…watching that I knew I had to fight it. I was the only one who refused."

"You didn't give in either…" I said quietly, contemplating the knowledge of it.

"Could that be what sets us apart? Why we're here and others aren't?"

"Have you seen how they die? The diseased ones?"

"No?"

"Well…when I died it was quiet, the way any other person has the potential to die…but they don't die peacefully. I simply died; their release is an irrefutable torment that I couldn't even begin to fathom. So there is most defiantly something that sets us apart and the most evident is that we didn't give into that longing."

"Should we keep this one to ourselves?"

"I think so…I mean if what sets us apart is that, how would we know if we were telling the wrong person the key to being reborn? Especially if this is a perpetual action, it's best to not share. What's important is now we know what we must never give into."

"And the ones kept from feeding by, say, being in the hospital?" He gently took the book from my hands, knowing I was simply using it as a visual blockage, "Hmm?"

"Well, there's always going to be flukes right? Maybe that's another factor to consider? We'll have to watch out for all sorts of things. Now please I WAS looking up the dosage for epinephrine in infants." Snatching the book back I swept a sly grin across my lips and flipped back to my page.

"You are impossible Oriana," he laughed "of course I get stuck with the stubborn one! I remember wondering if you'd be sweet, petite, maybe clumsy, boy was I wrong!" Leaning back to avoid a possible jab to the arm, he only had to dodge a dirty look.

"I kinda doubt someone as impressionable as that would still be alive," I shot back, "besides I'd like to think being stubborn kept me alive…or well reborn?" A mild humor emerged in my voice, "So I'll just take that as a compliment." About done with his game, I closed my book, keeping my place with my right index finger, and stood up. "Well freckle face, I think there's a slightly frost-bitten ice cream sandwich calling my name in the kitchen. I MAY have stashed away another one."

"Oh Oriana, you're so kind," Standing next to me he winked and looked up rather nonchalant, "I MAY have saved two chocolate puddings somewhere."

"Marco, do you think we act like kids because it's so easy to? Being in these bodies I mean."

"What? You didn't do this as an adult? Sheesh! You're lame!" Marco nudged me with his elbow and winked again as we walked down the hallway. Sometimes being with him made it feel like another time, much different then the here and now. I couldn't place if it was like the old days or if it was just a glimpse of the days to come, but every moment of it I held dear. Sam and Anne leaving would have been so much harder had Marco not been there. Most importantly, I felt whole, and for the life of me, I couldn't even remember a time even when I'd lived my first life that I'd felt truly complete.

News spread quickly of others during the months that followed, some only seven months younger then Marco and I, stories emerging from all over the world. The newer souls were that of the first resistance, once the disease began manipulating ways in. They were a far more ambitious lot as they'd already survived so much. Each just damned proud to have another go at finding a way to overcome this illness. Radio signals were coming in from every direction. Marco and I were allowed to sit and talk to some of the others, pry for anything we may not yet know. An odd pattern occurred from the dates of death and birth. Though for some it had been only nine months like Marco and myself, but others fluctuated as far as a year and a half from their death to rebirth. It seemed as though a soul had to sleep until a body was ready for it. We never asked them about their deaths in depth over the radio. Casual mention of when it happened was as far as we would indulge of our own deaths. Every once in a while they would discuss what had happened to them, this information helped either sides. For them, it was good to have the release of retelling what happened, and for us it gave us slightly more insight on everything. The younger ones were especially thankful to have guidance.

One story stood out above the others as the saddest to imagine.

Tommy was his name. He'd died at the age of fifteen, in Flagstaff, Arizona, where he had lived with his mother. She had died the moment she'd become sick, found face first in her morning tea, pajamas still wrinkled and steam rising from the pool of Lipton. All Tommy had ever known was his mother since his father had skipped out on them when he was four, and he was devastated. Tommy locked himself away in their home, destitute over his loss, letting the disease gnaw away at him until the change. He was driven mad battling himself, the only palatable meal within reach being found in the fallen form that was once his mother. Unable to take the need to eat her rotting flesh, he confined himself to the bathroom. With his remaining sanity he took the little brass key that was the only thing that stood between him and abomination, and he threw it out the tiny bathroom window. Suffering alone till he died, Tommy seemed to me the strongest willed of us all.

He'd been reborn in a military base near Portland, along with another man who'd died alone in Rockies of Montana. Upon mentioning their location, some small flicker of hope grew in a part of my heart I had forgotten.

Tony

My brother may still be in Portland. Every part of me didn't want to give into hoping, yet deep down, I made a wish that somehow it was true.

I think Marco must have noticed the change in me as we spoke to Tommy. He reached for my hand and gave it a brief, gentle, reassuring squeeze before continuing to ask questions. After he did this I knew I wouldn't be able to keep my new anxiety from him. In an odd way we were starting to rely on each other, and if it that was a good or bad thing it didn't matter.

Later, as we walked silently down the hall, he slowed down and looked at me.

"Pretty nuts story huh?"

"Yeah…I don't even know what I would do…" I trailed off, mind full of thoughts about Tony.

Reaching for my shoulder, Marco stopped me, with a tone edged in sympathy as well as curiosity, he said, "Was there someone waiting for you in Portland?"

"How did you know?"

"I saw it in your eyes. I haven't seen that twinkle since the first time I saw those baby blues." A half smile gave him a goofy offset look, but in his eyes was something that resembled a look I hadn't seen since my wedding day. The heat that smoldered there vanished almost as quickly as it appeared, but a genuine care still remained. "I can see when you are scheming something."

"My brother Tony still lived there when all this came. He was supposed to meet us at our bed and breakfast…but he wasn't there when we finally made it."

"So you think maybe they blockaded him in before he could leave?"

"I can only hope…is it silly of me to hope? Part of me feels it's pointless to cling to any hope he's still alive…and I feel my heart breaking all over again thinking about not finding him." Tears threatened to break from my eyes. Upon noticing this threat Marco hugged me, running a hand across the curly black hair that adorned this body, he all but soothed down the water works.

"It's never silly to hope Oriana, just don't go running off to Portland on me..." He allowed me to stay that way until my own walls wouldn't let me use his comfort any longer. As I lifted my head slightly from his shoulder he whispered his own confession into my ear, the notion I'd been dreading. "I had some people waiting on me too…In San Jose. Last I heard there was a safe-zone there, that the military was keeping a base…but in all this time no one's heard anything."

"Marco…"My voice was full of regret for what I was so close to having to do.

"Only say what you're going to say if you think I can take it." He drew back and searched my eyes.

We were almost nearing the end of their fourth year now, and in all physical aspects resembled seven year olds, definitive facial and body structures starting to emerge. For all his boy-like features, nothing could hide the worry that plagued his warm auburn eyes, the eyes of the man who was trapped inside. As they continued to pry through mine, as though the answer somehow lay in their aqua depths, I did not know if I could answer him. For all he had done for me, I could not crush him the way I must to give him closure.

"They're all gone Marco…what they told you was a lie." His eyes fell shut in a sigh as I fought with myself to continue, "All of San Jose was taken out before the sickness even turned…along with nearly all of southern California, maybe even more. They…they were trying to quarantine…" The harsh, vivid look of Robert's face flashed before mine and the same lost stare he'd given me was now washing over Marco as he opened his eyes.

Looking past me, he stared blankly out the window, gray clouds reflecting back at me through his eyes. Just barely audible he said to me, "Thank you…it is good to know that they will not be trapped here…I only wish I knew why I was." The last part of his words dripped with a deep frustration that drove him to turn and walk away from me.

I stood there several minutes after watching him rush away, wishing I could follow him, but my legs stopped me. I had no comfort to give him. There was no way I could tell him things would be better when in my heart I couldn't justify the words…no one knew where the road lead from here. It was a double-edged blade, hoping, and either side of the spectrum seemed to leave an open wound.

Only one thing was certain as I stood alone in the corridor, Marco's steps long echoed away, I needed Marco, and he needed me, it had been that way even before we met. Even electrical impulses in our minds were proof that being together meant something was happening. We just needed to figure out what.

_Her throat was dry and itchy, and all over her, her skin seemed to crawl. _

"_Fuck, I'm so thirsty." She uttered with a vicious frustration. _

"_Still? I swear you've drank five gallons."_

"_I know…it's like its just going through me, not even figuratively…it's like it's literally just passing without a stop and I'm pissing straight water!" She threw herself against their Jeep, the shade hiding away the fearful tears that swelled over her eyelashes. "This is how it starts Robert…I'm almost afraid to eat…because if I CAN'T eat…then…then what are we going to do?" Inside of her chest her heart did a frightened leap and quickened as she began to panic. As her breathing became more rapid, her husband quickly wrapped her up in his arms and swayed her slightly from side to side. "I can even feel it on my body Robert, like thousands of ants crawling under my skin…" She couldn't hold back a sob as she buried her face into the crook of his neck. Through dehydration, tears somehow found their way to flood down her cheeks, mixing with dust and cotton on her husband's shirt. _

"_Shhhh…shhh love, stop worrying so much. You're just being paranoid." Kissing her forehead he made an attempt to wipe away her tears, "You're so beautiful…even when you cry. Those eyes of yours shine like the lake on a summer morning, the sun captured in every ripple." His words coax a smile from her for a moment as she herself wiped away the last slipping tears. _

"_I wish I could be mad at you for distracting me with such pretty words, as I must look like shit by now…but I can only hope you're right."_

"_Trust me, you look fine babe." Robert landed a lengthy kiss on his wife, flinching slightly at the dust suddenly blow upon them, "We'd better get back in the jeep and on the road again." Cupping her chin in his hand and caressing her cheek with his thumb, he added, "We will be home soon, nestled in our huge tempurpedic bed, watching the sun rise through the window."_

"_That sounds perfect, my back could use it." Offering one last peck on the lips, she walked around her husband, opened the door, and stepped into the dusky jeep wrangler. _

_As soon as she could no longer see his face, Robert allowed his happy expression to reflect the true emotions bubbling up inside of him. Worry gripped at his heart as he'd watched his wife start a slow progression to ailment. The dark circles under her eyes weren't going away, even though now it seemed all she did was sleep in the seat next to him. Some of the color was starting to leave her skin and he'd noticed her shaking in her sleep. He needed to get her home as soon as possible. Even if this were the last thing he could give to her, he would make sure his wife was home when the time came._

"_Hey, I thought you said we had to get a move on?" She peeked her head out, a coy little smile lighting up her slightly weakened features. Quickly hiding away his worry, her husband simply rolled his eyes at her playfully and rounded the jeep to the driver's side. _

_The road ahead of them was clear, very few people had made it past the extermination, and while they would come across others ahead of them, there was nothing behind…nothing but a sea of blood that only quickened man's demise in his attempts to falter inevitability. Those holding the guns all too soon falling to the very fate they sought to eliminate, beautiful irony. _


	5. “Oriana…they’re gone pt 5

We never talked about that day after that. It was a pain all of us would come to know, we had all lost someone if not seemingly everyone. Perhaps that's why we all held onto each other like family. We all had our Sam's, Anne's and Marco's, we the reborn, just trying to find kindred spirits. Every moment was precious, but we'd all learned to hide that fact, maybe it was human nature to assume sadness and anguish as weakness and confine it. By now we were all good actors. The turbulence inside never reflected out, and Sam was right, everything got easier to handle, on the outside at least.

A new year rolled in and with the last's closure came floods of reports and stories.

There were a surprising few that lasted from the beginning, a meager handful in comparison to the resistance. A definitive nature was what separated us all from the mad, a will to go beyond. Some of us took the hardest of trials in those first months. Being set in the blue heat of pandemic and giving not into that need, we wore an invisible badge of few.

Stories of death during and after the first resistance had a tendency to follow down one basic path. Someone who had been infected somehow made it into a place of refuge and contaminated the safety there.

One recollection such as this was actually from a little girl who's lived in Buffalo, New York. In the weeks before my journey from Massena, a group mistakenly brought in an infected family. Soon it was every where, the only room for the family having been in a mass shelter near the center of town. The girl claimed her mother locked her away once the little girl had fallen ill and then disappeared. She watched from a tiny bedroom window as Buffalo burned, shortly following her view in a heat she couldn't escape.

From time to time a story would filter through that caught out attention. Just short of a dozen people retold a similar oddity in some of the more seasoned walking death. Caravans ambushed in secluded regions where all their windows were shattered, causing some of them to get cut. The mad swarm would jostle the cars about in frenzy, screaming and thrashing at them. Suddenly, as though they'd never been there, they would all disappear. Confused, the people would gather into what vehicles still operated and began moving on. Sickness seeped into them through the cuts and even quicker from one another as they all went insane. They knew then that no one would take them, far too many of them evidently sick, and shelter was no longer an option. Wandering far off course, they were all eventually tracked down by the diseased and devoured one by one as they dropped dead.

Intelligence we all feared they would adapt to was coming to a hard realization. During the last week of January we received a signal that raised our suspicions to confirmation.

Marco and I sat in a small room on the sixth floor of the main medical building. The room had once been a doctor's study near general surgery. Converted into a communication hub for the hospital, the shelves once lined with medical texts were now overflowing with metal electrical devices and wires. Four satellites had been set up, one of the east, west, north and south facing boundaries of the roof. All of them were utilized to pick up even the smallest signal and relay it within.

We'd taken it upon ourselves to relieve others from communications duty time to time, masking it this way as aid rather then the selfish reason of gathering information. Since it was common now to be reborn, Marco and I could now enjoy luxuries and independence we previously couldn't in the spotlight. When we would learn something new, we wouldn't rush off to inform everyone, like the guard here often did. Instead we would sit debating relevancy and importance, as well as what the information was capable of causing once told.

Midday had come into cycle as we sat talking over the tragic loss of Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Even the hope of finding of last scoop hidden in a rundown grocery store was dashed by the expiration and inevitable heat through power outages. It was a loss we were willing to cope with but planned to put on our 'first action' list if order was ever established. Tough was relevant and extremely important as this topic was, it was the small chatter on the other end of the headsets resting on the desk in front of us that was definitive that day.

Marco was first to grasp his headset and prop it back on, fluently setting the mouthpiece in place and answered the chatter with a, "Yes, we hear you, over."

A bit clumsier, I finally had my own set situated and listened in.

"This is Xander Holms; I'm trying to find my sister, over." The petite voice of a boy simmered over the line, worry underlying his vocals.

"Alright Xander, this is Marco in Chicago. Where are you radioing in from? Over"

"Toronto, a little farther from home then I'm used to I'll have to admit. Over"

"Where is home? Over"

"Decorah, Iowa. Over"

"Well that is one heck of a stones throw for sure. So, you're looking for your sister? Over"

"Yes, Kelly Holms, I know if I made it back she had to of too. Over"

"When were you reborn Xander? Over" I suddenly added into the conversation.

"A month ago, who's this? Over"

"Oh, my name's Oriana. Over"

"So, why can't I find my sister, I've been calling out every day since I could and nothing. Over"

"Did you die at the same time? Over" I asked.

"I guess so, I know I died first, it all happened so quickly, I know she was still screaming when I died. They tell me here that was almost a year ago. Over"

"Not everyone comes back at the same time. Sometimes we have to wait. There aren't many left uninfected, at least that we know of, so it takes time. Even more, there's a whole world we don't know where and if there are survivors. If there are, who's to say none of the souls are wandering farther then our reached. Over" Marco uttered somewhat sternly.

"So, you're saying it's pointless? I could radio forever and never really know? Over" he asked harshly back, desperately trying to mask the concern within.

"No, all we're saying is you should be prepared, you never know. Over" I put in attempts to ease the tension building between Marco and the boy.

"Yeah, sure, whatever, I know what you mean I guess. Over"

I raised a brow at Marco. Sometimes we forgot out sympathy. None of us didn't have a similar story, and to them, it may seem new and tragic, but every part of this world was no immersed in it. We were slowly becoming cold during this time.

"Could I ask that you tell us how you died? So if we hear or have heard a similar story we can help you find her. Over" I reached for a pen and pad of paper as I finished saying this, ready to jot down any key points.

"Best if you start at the beginning. Over" Marco added.

"Beginning huh? Hmm…well I guess it starts with us being held up in our grandparent's place a few miles out of town. They died a long time ago it seems, but I guess it was when the whole sickness thing hit. Even before they died, they were prepared for any disaster; gramps was a bit of a paranoid old fellow. He'd set up a sort of bomb shelter under the house with enough rations to last someone a few years, as well as guns up the wa-zoo. Dad and mom took the guns though, cept for two. They figured my sister was too little and that any more guns around would surely cause an accident. I think I remember her arguing that nine years was plenty old enough to shoot." A small pause broke into a soft laugh, "Anyway, they left us there when the town started to be overrun, and they promised to come back. Then they left, guns blazing, and headed toward town."

Xander stopped for a long while, the static between signals the only indication he was still there. "I think we waited more then a year for them to come back. It was always quiet. We still had plenty of food, but we were going crazy for sure. I'd ran out of books to read, all the video games had been beat, we were out of batteries, Kelly used up all her colored pencils and paper and we were slowly driving each other nuts as our only form of entertainment.

Then we heard them. Our mom and dad were calling to us from outside." His voice strained, filling with tears we couldn't see, "They said it was ok to come out…the town was safe. I was the first one to the door and I began punching in the unlock code before my sister had even gotten up.

When door swung open and I saw them. It was dark in the basement, I couldn't quite see their faces, but I knew it was them. My mom always wore the same kind of sneakers and my dad had on his old high school jacket…he never left the house without that thing. 'Hey baby, we missed you.' My mom said when she opened up her arms to me, 'Come here my big boy!' I was just so excited to have them back I ran into her arms." He took in a deep breath, stifling another round of tears, "It must have been the instant I was in her arms I felt something odd. She smelt different…not like my mom, kinda like an old penny and her body seemed like it was on fire. 'Such a good boy, I knew you would come to mommy.' When she said this she sounded off, almost madly calm and now I was firmly in her grips. She kissed my forehead, I could smell rot on her breath, and before I could pull back she began scratching up my face and any other skin her nails could dig into. She gave me a strange grin and lowered her face….that's when I saw her eyes…the red. I don't even think I yelled I was so surprised by what she was doing. 'Always listens to what mommy says.' She sounded so…evil really. My dad took my sister. I couldn't even give her warning and soon I could hear her screaming as she was carried past me. Hearing Kelly I snapped out of it finally. There must have been a lot of blood on my face, because when I started to struggle it splattered all over my mom. I don't even know how I got free but somehow I got to that pistol. It was really cold in my hand, I tried remembering the times grandpa had shown me how to shoot, but for the life of me I couldn't stop shaking. She was almost on me when I pulled the trigger…I shot my mom." The words were mechanically uttered, "I heard my dad let out some sort of horrible yell as my mom…well I guess she turned to dust…and he dropped my sister. My sis was already cut up and bleeding too, and like me, she was in too much a shock to move even to escape. He twisted the gun out of my hand, yanked me up by the same arm, snatched up my sister by her shirt and drug us upstairs. 'You did it now.' Was all he said when we got into the kitchen and he threw me against the counter. Doing the same thing to Kelly, we both had the air knocked out and were curled in from the hit. The sound of more of them rushing into the house shook me out of it for a moment, they gathered around me, and darkening the whole room. 'Hold his leg.' I heard someone say. Two arms flew out and held onto my left leg. My dad stepped in front of me and in one stomp he brought his boot and broke my leg in half at the knee. I…I don't think I've ever known something so painful…it blinded me." We both cringed at his words, the smallest hiccup in Xander's voice indicating he did the same. "They broke her leg too…before I passed out, I think from shock, I heard them talking about bringing others there, that they could smell them hiding. I managed to get an arm around Kelly, she was sobbing and I held her while the world fazed out.

Someone coughing woke me up. We were still at my grandparent's, but now there was about a dozen of us crammed onto the kitchen floor. A woman next to me was hacking up blood. I remember she coughed all over me, probably why I got sick quicker. My sister was asleep, still safely in my arms, just a little pale from the blood loss. She was the smallest one there, most everyone else was older then me even. Some of them were too sick to move so they didn't have to have their legs broken, four like us weren't so lucky. The lady next to me must have been on the end of her line cause it wasn't long before one of them came in and started to poke at her…like they were picking out which peach was ripe enough to eat. 'She smells just about right. We won't have to go hungry tonight.' The thing laughed, drug the dying woman by her leg outside. The muffled gagging I heard I think were her attempts to scream. The last few days we were alive, all Kelly kept saying she felt empty…no matter how much water I managed to drip into my hand from the sink, she stayed empty. She'd go back to sobbing every time she was forced to go to the bathroom there on the floor…I felt so helpless. I didn't even pay attention to my own nagging gut, I wanted Kelly to be ok, it was about getting her through…like I had promised her I would when mom and dad first locked us away. The last day I woke up to her coughing blood on my shirt, and I had a feeling that this was it. 'I love ya kid, even all those times I said mom and dad adopted you, I'm still glad you're my little sis.' I whispered that to her when I heard them coming, she cried because she knew there wasn't anything either of us could do. A few of them came in this time, nearly five of us were ready to be 'picked' that day, so I guess they were eager to get their grub on because they nearly threw all five of us out the door. Outside the grass was brown, dry, and leaves covered the ground, there was blood dried on all the dead plants around me. 'I got him, I get the first bite.' I knew it was my dad's voice mixed in with my sister's screams…but all I saw was the bottom of his boot when smashed in my face over and over till…till I was dead….Over"

We'd been hanging on his every word, entranced as he told us something we were both fighting not to believe. It seemed it had even left us in shock as we heard him say, "You guys still there? Over"

"Oh! Yes…sorry…that was just so…well terrible. Over" I spoke somewhat shakily. It had been quite some time since I story had left me speechless, almost worried at that.

"How old were you Xander? Over" Was Marco's only reply from the retelling.

"Fourteen…no wait I turned fifteen…I remember now…I'm pretty sure it was two days before I died. Over"

"I'm so sorry Xander…" I couldn't even end it with an over; I simply didn't know what else to say.

"It'll all be fine when I find my sister. Over"

Sam and Anne's small travelling party had left mid-may of the previous year, it was not February and a disheartening feeling fell upon me when still no word had come from them. The first few months I thought it was safe to assume things were simply busy and they didn't have time to radio in. A small guilt had crept in as I realized my delay in contacting them had been because I was so distracted with Marco. Perhaps if I hadn't been so selfish with him, I would have noticed much sooner that no word from my dear friends had come. Now, it was almost definite something had happened.

For two days I sent out a signal to Massena and waited patiently for someone to answer. Every moment I hung on the static, waiting for anyone, just anyone, Marco started to worry. He would stick around until I'd drive him off, frustrated with the constant nothing, insisting his talking would make me miss a call back.

On the third day I stumbled on some luck. At nearly two in the morning, a tired voice replied my plea for information.

"Hello?"

"Yes! My name is Oriana, is this Massena Memorial Hospital? Over"

A soft yawn came across the line, "Yeah, this is Marci, I thought I heard something coming from up here…what can I do for you? Over"

"I'm trying to track down some friends of mine, you may know them. We left from Massena last April on route to Chicago. My friends, Sam Blake and Anne Rouche, they left here May 20th back to Massena. We haven't heard any word, I…I was hoping you could tell me something? Over"

"Hmmm…I don't know anyone by that name, but I'm new here at the hospital, they started up nursing classes so I joined this week. Maybe you know someone I could go get for you? That would know who you are talking about? Over"

"Dr. Langry." I said immediately and with luck stuck a familiar name.

Waiting for perhaps a total of ten minutes, I was soon met by a voice I knew well. "Oriana? Is that you? Over"

"Hey there doc, it's been a while, sorry I haven't been in touch. Over"

"I was starting to think you'd forgotten about little ol' Massena. Though it is quite alright, if you've been as busy over there rebuilding as we have I can understand a delay in communications. It's been rather exciting. We've had four rebirths here, none quite as stubborn, but definite developments. Ahem, I do believe a nurse tech informed me you had some questions about someone here? Over"

"Where's Sam and Anne? Over"

"Who? Over"

"My two drivers, they were called back a month after we got to Chicago…did they make it ok? Over"

"Sam…Sam…hmmm oh!" The line fizzled quiet as I waited for Dr. Langry to continue.

"What? Please tell me…whatever it is I can handle it. Over"

"Buffalo…"He said, just barely heard.

"What about it? Over"

"That's where the vehicles were found. But they found no one Oriana. We'd expected them for weeks till we were able to send out a search party. The city and cars were empty, nothing living…and nothing near living either. Over"

"What do you mean…Over"

"Oriana…they're gone, we don't know what happened. Over" And then the doctor cut the signal, part of me thanks him, because all I would have done was demand an answer he couldn't give.

"No…no I should have stopped them." I muttered, arguing with myself, like there had been something I could have done. "They have to come back…I won't believe that they are one of them…I just can't." My words were broken by sobs, sobs I hadn't allowed myself since before this body. Sobs that this soul knew, but this form did not, and it quaked under the pressure as I held my face in my hands. The headset still spit static into my ears, ringing to smother the crying. In my heart I knew I would see them, but my worst fear is that I would see them as a predator, hungrily staring at me from beside a tree, not as Sam and Anne. I stayed there in the darkness, crying, until I fell asleep in my arms and the moment was over.

"_Empty…again…fuck." Robert slammed the last gas hose down onto the ground and in frustration he knelt to the curb, uttering curses and damnations. _

_Each pump had come up barren. _

_She watched him wearily, studying the ransacked gas station before them. It was the third they had found that way, completely stripped, and absolutely empty. As soon as the people here heard about the exterminations they ravaged every town dry in their wake, hope was beginning to wane as their tank neared empty. _

_While he kicked at some dirt and sat trying to figure out a plan, his wife figured it an opportune time to try a little of the beef jerky he'd been trying to force on her. Opening up the glove box, she rummaged through the endless pile of auto information till her fingers at last touched upon the smooth plastic. _

'_Come on, just a bite, and then we'll know at least.' He had said to her that morning, trying to coax anything from the weak and distant being she was becoming. Simply not wanting to see the anguish on his face when, like she was certain it would, the food just couldn't be eaten. _

_With feeble fingers, she pried open the bag, the smell of teriyaki wafted up and added a groan to her already starving insides. Reaching in she found a reasonable small portion and pulled it out to face her._

"_I'm afraid." She whispered quietly, staring at the stab of dehydrated meat that used to be her favorite road snack. She knew she had to do it. "I guess…here goes nothing?" With uncertainty on her tongue, she followed these words with the progression of sustenance between such doubtful lips, praying. _

_The food in her mouth had no taste, like she could have been eating paper or drinking water. She was almost grateful for this. Though her mouth was dry, she managed to slowly work the bite into a small wad and swallow. _

"_That wasn't too bad…maybe I'm not sick." The smallest of smiles graced her for a moment as, and for just a second, she thought she was going to be ok. _

_Robert was rechecking the third pump, where he thought he had heard the smallest give of liquid inside. The sound of the jeep door slamming open broke his concentration however. His wife had almost thrown herself from the vehicle and onto the ground, heaving and gagging on something. _

"_What the fuck?!" He shouted her name and ran to her side as bloody stomach acid and the tiniest amount of beef jerky spilled onto the ground. She continued to vomit, nothing but dark blood coming out until she was shivering in his arms. _

"_I…I just wanted to try when you wouldn't have to see. I didn't think it would be this bad." She whispered timidly against his shirt, "I'm so sorry."_

"_No love, don't be sorry." Gently rocking, he rubbed her arms trying to get her to stop shivering, "I'm here for you, no matter what, we'll get you home baby."_

"_I know Robert…I just feel so hungry…I don't even know how I keep moving…it's been almost a week…no water…no food. Half of me just wants to sleep…sleep and never wake up…like that's the only way I can stop this." She began to cry, throwing what little energy she had left into sobs that raked through her in tremors. Helpless, he watched her in his arms, felt the hot tears soak his shirt, and fought with every inch of himself to not break down with her. Someone needed to be strong now, to get them both home. _

_He could tell she had already lost weight as he easily lifted her into the Jeep. Wiping away the blood on her cheeks he tried to give her a smile, but the lost look in her eyes almost crushed him…like she was already gone. _

"_Baby promise me something." Robert whispered to her, as he took her hand, and caressed the top near her knuckles. Focusing on her hand, like it was the only thing keeping him in sanity, he added "Just one thing."_

"_Yes Robert?"_

"_Promise me you won't stop fighting, you'll stay with me as long as you can?"_

"_I can't prom…" She began. _

"_No…don't tell me that, PROMISE me you won't stop fighting." Forcing his eyes up the intensity within them shocked her. " I need to know that you won't give up babe, because that's all that's keeping me going now. I will get us home, but all I need from you is this one promise" Tears rimmed his eyes as he pleaded to her. _

_Her eyes searched those of the man she married, ending on the glisten of tears meant for her. Every part of her wanted to give up, but it was her heart that made the final decision. She would use every second of energy to fulfill that request. "I…I promise Robert…I won't give up…ever." Ending it with a weak smile, the smallest twinkle of affection was shown out to him. _

"_Thank you." Kissing her just so softly, he focused only on what he was going to do when the little red line finally came to E. _


End file.
